Unexplainable, Uncontainable
by Wonderous wonder
Summary: *Post Infinity war AU* Anna, a rescuee from HYDRA, has found her place at the Avengers compound. Friends, company, and a wonderful 'work-in-progress' family. Even so, dealing with a terrible plan that could put power in the worst hands possible, living with the other Avengers, and terrible case of PTSD aren't easy things to overcome. (Rated T for safety)
1. The First and Final day

There was an death in the undertaking. It was a rookie's, of course. He didn't call himself ignorant for telling the untrained agents to apprehend the girl; after all, he knew his niece better than anyone. The discovery of her still being alive after the infiltration was shocking, and motivation to start anew. No more ties in the bottom of their old 'laundromat', this was to be groundbreaking, no, revolutionary. He'd put the girl - and the so-called heroes themselves to good use. Yes, this was finally grounds for improvement. Now, only to find his neice.

Though the first mission of abduction was unsuccessful, it still provided with footage. He had replayed it far too many times, due to the unfortunate angle of the camera; despite this, he had finally pieced together Anna's powers.

She seemed to be able to create ice, or frost at the very least, so potent and powerful that they sent the rookie crashing to the ground, leaving him for dead. It was no matter, it was an improvement. Her bodily anomaly was useful. This, however, could be life-changing.

He finally stopped the video, content with his findings, and thoroughly fed-up with straining his eyes in the dark office room. It was dark and mysterious, hard for the victims to find out piece together a location, but it was too dark.

He squinted as he left the office, and made his usual call to action. "Directions and orders have been changed. Now, those who were responsible for simple human research are to go undercover for an abduction mission. I assume you already know who I'm looking for."

The audible groans and sighs were ignored, as men and few women focused their attention on the leader. He called out the names of those who were assigned for that specific abduction. It would certainly go correctly, these were some of the better workers. If not, there were always people to spare. He would stop at nothing to have his niece again.

(Anna's P.O.V)

Today is the day they're coming home, for sure. Day after day, turning to month after month of traveling to Wakanda to Europe and back. Since the Thanos incident, they're coming back home. It was painful and uneasy, seeing Tony slowly recovering, the tension of being in the same room as Rogers, Nat's stress and silent grief, and, most of all, seeing them being detained in one country or another. Pepper and Rhodey took care of me when they weren't occupied with Tony, which wasn't often. It wasn't much matter. After all, before this I had been taking care of myself for seven years.

Still, I felt a pang in my stomach from as I woke up to an empty compound. Pepper had left for work, and the Avengers on their final flight from Wakanda or Europe or ce que ce soit. Soon, I'll be seeing Tony and Nat and Pepper, and maybe even Clint. I'll meet all the new Avengers, who I had only met temporarily in Wakanda. Though they might still be knee-deep in legal issues, I look forward for the mornings to be less-than-silent, with the banter and chit-chat in the morning, and more liveliness during the day.

Through my bathroom's mirror, I see I still have a faint strangulation mark from being choked a week ago, on that fateful day — the day I got strangled by some random guy at the supermarket, leading up to me accidentally taking his life by cold shock—. I drive my attention away from it, and wash my face.

Looking over, a post-it note is stuck on the toothbrush holder, as always. I tear it away to read Nat's scribble-y yet neat writing. The note is the same as usual, but I smile as I read it. Since the day of the 'almost-jump' in Wakanda, she had written them for me to help ease the pain of my wounds, of the grief, and the sheer stress of the situation. Eventually, they became small explanations — where they were going, when they'd come back, whether or not I could leave the compound.

This is the last note. I read it, put it in my back jean's pocket, and make my way to Central park.

xxxx

The October leaves faded from their usual shades of green to orange, yellow and brown, and the chilly air brushes through my short black hair, as I walk through the park. It's nice enough alone, but I want to be here with somebody. Maybe Tony or Nat or Clint, maybe one of the new Avengers. I know, that after today, all of that will be possible.

I remember the same exact path that Tony took with Pepper on the day of Thanos. The man in the cape. The monster. Bruce Banner. Internal panic wells up inside me as I think about it.

I continue my walk, steering clear of the path, walking alongside the lake. Clouds have covered the sky, but I don't mind. It's only gotten colder, after all. Since Thor declared me as 'Frost Giant,' I've begun to realize how comfortable the cold is. The park's population slowly deceases as the temperature does, leaving me feeling more and more alone.

My walk is disrupted by some vendors staring at me from down the path, seemingly trying to get my attention. Well, it did work. I make my way over there with precaution, noticing that all the people on my path must have left. Is it really that cold?

At the vendor's table stands three men, and one woman, all wearing shirts with Rubik's cubes, the ones parallel to the ones they had on the table. "Hello, dear," the first woman says eerily, through a foreign accent. "Would you be interested in a small cube?" She asks, still staring me down.

"No…No thanks," I stammer, slowly pacing backwards, breaking from from her glare. I realize the two men have stopped me from moving behind any further.

The woman grimaces at them, and they move away from me, standing besides her. She looks at me, her lips curving into a mock sweet smile. "Well, why don't you at least tell us your name?"

I return the smile, and clench my fists into a less-noticeable sparring motion. "No," I refuse politely, "I've got to go, how about another day?"

"Oh, I don't think you'll want to, May-Annalin Coltons." The man says from behind me.

A sudden force attacks the back of my head, knocking me back; back into the arms of the man, who has me in a headlock. I gasp for breath, quickly but consistently. I flail my hands onto his arms, as I feel the ice creeping through his skin. Taken aback by the frostbite, he pushes me down onto the pavement. I regain my balance, and block all the punches as well as I can, just as Natasha taught me. But this isn't a training session, this isn't a spar. I can't just tell them to stop. I need to fight my way out of this.

I quickly throw two uppercuts at the men, and kick the woman strategically. She falls, but the men are still standing. One grabs me by the arm, dragging me towards the lake. The other stops him, and yells something in what I think is Russian. I quickly free myself from his grip, and hastily deliver a strong blow to the left temple. He falls unconscious, but probably not for long.

And then there were two.

The woman manages to pin me against a tree. Instead of attacking, she stares me blankly in disbelief. She almost smiles, but hesitates. "You…You monster…Your eyes are red!"

That's it. I press my hands to her chest, knowing what I can do. She drops dead, leaving only me and one of the men. He looks shocked at what I've done, looking down at his hands than my face. I can feel the pain catching up with my body, knowing I'll have some bruises when I get home.

"What have you done?" The man asks, dumbfounded. I pace backwards, in case of a sudden attack. Noticing he's too scared to approach, I sit down quietly on the grass, catching my breath. It feels like time has stopped at the deathly amount of tension between us both.

"I'm going home." I manage, my voice wobbly and weak. My body aches everywhere. I look down - bad idea. I look up again, trying to rid of my dizziness.

"You're not going to finish me off?" He asks, obviously wounded, glancing back at his partners, dead and unconscious.

"I'd much rather go home," I said weakly, mustering a smirk. "There are people I wanna see."

xxxxx

I watch the sunset from the inside window, tracing my icy fingers along the bruises. They're nothing severe, and will heal quickly. They blend into my dark skin better than normal, anyways. Out of boredom, I create an icy cloud at the tips of my fingers, followed my one on my right hand. I watch as small snowflakes fall from the tips on my fingers, landing on my outstretched legs. Clint said I'd eventually come around to my powers, accept them for what they are. This could be a start.

Suddenly, I hear the faint sound of a plane or helicopter, or in this case, the Quinjet. My stomach fills with butterflies as I hear the jet land, and my heart fills with joy as I hear chatter coming echoing through the halls. This is it; in a few moments, everyone will be here, and at least for a little while, everything will be fine.

"So, did you get the note?" a familiar voice asks. Tired, and strained but familiar all the same. The same voice that convinced me not to jump. The same voice that helped my initial recovery. The same voice that missed more than I'm willing to admit. I jump up and turn around. In front of me stands the Avengers. Not all of them I know, and some I do aren't present.

"As always, Nat," I reply, grinning, "as always." I say, wrapping my arms around her in the biggest hug I can manage. She stiffens and hesitates, but returns it. For the first time today, hell, for this month, I'm truly comfortable. Everyone is here. No more jumping to other countries, no more being detained randomly. No more near-mortal wounds. 'Awws' are heard by voices I can't put my finger on, but I don't mind. I don't mind because today is the day they came home. This time, it's for sure.

**A/N: I hope it's at least half decent, because I have so much planned for this story. Please R&R if you enjoyed!**


	2. Nine-thirty at night

"It's your turn." Clint nudged her shoulder gently, breaking Anna from her focus.

She shook her head, breaking her gaze, and placed. "Three aces."

Clint scoffed, arching up in his beanbag. "Cheat."

Anna leaned bag into her beanbag, content and smug. A smirk flashed by her face, she could barely contain herself from giggling. "Pick 'em up."

Clint cursed in what Anna thought to be Russian, pushing his twenty-something cards to the ground, before grudgingly leaving the little circle of beanbags. He called out to Wilson and Rogers' other friend, placing himself on one of the bar stools.

she turned to Nat, wearing a rueful expression. She scooped up the cards, then shuffling them in between her hands. Anna fixed her gaze back on Steve's new friend - who was now drinking with his normal hand. He lifted the bottle, set it down, glanced around, and smirked at something Rogers had said.

Natasha snapped her back to reality, handing her a half deck of cards. "Let's go to war, shall we?" Anna only nodded, before placing down her first card.

Anna missed nights like this - beautifully simple, the stir of classical music and indistinct chatter, card games and pizza. Usually, it was only the five of them, her alongside Clint, Nat, Tony and Rhodey — though sometimes Pepper would join —, but now…Now there were more people. Wanda was here, so was Wilson Bruce, and Rogers, unfortunatly.

Natasha pulled her two cards towards her. Anna placed, but Nat hesitated, a slight glint of concern in her expression. She glanced back up at Anna, their eyes met. "I'm not going to pretend like I haven't noticed you examining Barnes over there," she said, pulling the two cards towards her once again.

There was no point in trying to convince an Assassin on what they knew was true . Anna glanced back down at her half deck for a split second, then back at Natasha. She placed again. "It's just.." she trailed off, placing two cards on the bottom of her half deck.

'Terrifying?" she asked, placing down another card. A Six, identical to Anna's, war. The scent of some sort of fruit crumble wafted through the room. Another card was placed. An eight and a three laid flat against the ground. Anna pulled the cards towards her. Anna wasn't…terrified, per se, but intimidated; intimidated and nervous, at that.

She knew Rogers had friends. She was told, she was aware of the situation, she saw Falcon and Captain America on the news a few years ago. And, really, this is _Captain America._ Captain America who was not a fan of Anna. Captain America who argued against her staying at the compound. Captain America who held a grudge against Natasha for helping her in a vulnerable state.

Anna lowered her voice as she played yet another card. "What if Rogers told him?" He asked, tension seeping through her tone. "I mean, what if he told him everything…About my uncle, and my powers, and Wakanda, and how he got all frustrated with you and-"

" War," Natasha interrupted, after placing down a three. "You need to place." Anna set her last few cards down onto the deck. A king against a five. Natasha pulled the cards towards her.

"What if he did?" Anna asked, pushing her knees to her chest. Uneasiness grew in her voice she she spoke. She shifted her gaze to meet the assassin, who was reshuffling the cards.

Their gazes met. "He didn't," she said, matter - of - factly. Anna looked up at her, eyebrows raising in doubt. She fell back into her beanbag a little bit more, crossing her arms. "We came to an agreement."

A half smile formed on her face. She released the tension in her arms, drooping them down. She fell back into the beanbag. "Thanks, Nat." She said, only somewhat louder than a whisper. A long pause lingered between the two. Anna was comfortable here — lights that weren't very bright, old fashioned classical music softly humming through speakers, the smell of pizza wafting through the air, and children's beanbags in place of perfectly functional — and rather expensive — furniture. For such a long time, the feeling of comfort had been missing.

A small smile curved on the edge of Nat's lips. "You want some ice cream, Dochurka?" She asked, saying the last word in Russian. Nat did that sometimes, usually cursing and insulting others in her native language. Mostly talking behind his back annoy Tony. '_Tupoy' _meant 'dumb.'

Anna nodded and she got up. Anna fumbled with the cards while she was gone, trying to remember the obvious magic trick Clint had taught her. Someone marched over to sit on the armchair above Nat's beanbag.

She batted her head up to glance at who was there, who was, unfortunately, Rogers' friend. _They made eye more contact for more than a second,_ not being able to escape his troubling deadpan gaze. "Hey," he said, tension bleeding through his voice. Up close, she could see he had brown hair, only slightly shorter than hers, blue eyes, a metal arm, and disconcerting stare.

"Hi," she managed, before focusing her glance back down at her cards. Her fingers trembled as she tried to lift a card, she noticed the pumping in her heart. Nat was only across the room, filling two cones with vanilla ice cream. It had only been ten seconds, it seemed like ten minutes, each minute a longing second.

Maybe she was overreacting. This was an Avenger's best friend, for heaven's sake. He was fine with the others. He didn't know about anything about her. To him, she wasn't a half-frost giant, not some mess of nightmares and PTSD. Not weak, but not a fighter either; just some kid who'd wound up on here by accident.

She began to ease, breathing gently, in and out and in and out again. Natasha was still across the room, getting caught up and talking to Tony. Anna could get up and to the barstools, but this was too short a timeframe. she couldn't, get up as soon as someone sat down.

The clock read nine-thirty-three. It had only been a minute since she left. She practiced the stupid card trick again. One more try, and she'd be better than Clint. She watched as Clint lost three goldfish crackers to Tony in Blackjack. Nine-thirty-four. Natasha mocked Clint's loss of his three sacred goldfish. She ate one of Tony's. There weren't any goldfish in the pantry before the other Avengers arrived, someone must have brought them; Clint, maybe?

Clint would be going home tomorrow. To his secret home, his secret farm, with his secret chickens and secret tractor. It was still nine-thirty-four. Thor ate the whole bag of goldfish in one bite. Bruce mashed his head in his arms, Tony laughed, Rogers smirked before grabbing his drink and walking towards his metal armed friend.

Anna didn't actually know what Nat meant by an 'agreement', but she knew as much that Steve Roger's couldn't just go around telling everyone about her unstable past. "Hey there," Rogers said, serious and unsmiling.

"Captain," She replied, mimicking his expression.

"Mind if i sit?"

"No, not at all." She pressed her knees together and placed her hands over them, giving him an innocent seeming smile.

He sat in the chair behind her. Nine-Thirty-Five. Turns out Wanda wanted some ice cream. Behind her, Rogers and his friend talked about morning runs with Sam Wilson, haircuts and the what seemed to be bootleg version of Hydra. The friend spoke in a low, gravelly voice, as if he was about to be caught for a crime he didn't commit.

Nat returned. Nine thirty six, a bowl of ice cream in hands. She glanced up to the men in the chairs, then back down at Anna. "Evening, boys."

"Nat, we've been over this," Rogers remarked, a slight hint of amusement in his voice. It had been awhile since she had heard any sort of amusement in his tone while Anna was in his presence.

Nat shrugged off the comment with a smirk, before taking her seat in the beanbag."I've been thinking about sparring," she said, letting the spoon drag through her bowl. "I know we've been trying without wrists, but you'd be dammed if that happened in a fight."

Anna's stomach sank. She focused at her own wrists. The scar marks were darker than some of the others, with good reason. Shackles had dug into her skin, leaving them raw for nearly a week.

It was a trigger that was hard to spar with, but within the first year the sensitivity had subsided. Long sleeved shirts at first, morphing into bracelets, watches, and small amounts of pressure. Nat was careful to never grip onto wrists, and while Clint didn't spar with her, he always either held her hand or shoulder. Tony knew, alongside Rhodey and Bruce, but none of them were really physically affectionate.

Physical affection was pretty rare, actually. The hug was a rare, sudden occurrence that seemed to spawn from nowhere but pure emotion and humility. She broke from her gaze, jolting upwards. "I…I think I can, but I'm not sure." She said, forcing a smile to ease the uncertainty.

Natasha cocked her head to the side, slightly narrowing her eyes to focus. "You remind me of someone, I just can't remember who. It's someone, I just…" she trailed off, flying her hand to the left. She grasped the spoon for her bowl, and traced it along the bottom of the bowl. "Forget it.''

"I never asked," Anna replied, before she realized what she said. She perked upwards, suddenly holding a confused Natasha in an jittery gaze. "I – I didn't mean to say it like that," she tried to explain, waving her hands, grasping for nothing. "I just it's…I just meant that I — I…I mean…I mean I don't…" she paused, sighing, before collapsing he head backwards into the blue beanbag. Three long seconds passed before she sat back up. The woman in front of her wore a wry smirk, arms crossed.

Anna couldn't smile — or at least smirk — back. She furrowed her eyebrows, grabbing hold of her knees, now tucked into a little ball. "Sorry."

Natasha's smiled faded. "It's alright,'' she said softly, extending her arm, reaching Anna's hand. She shifted away from the assumed touch, her expression remained the same, as she traced her hand across the smooth beanbag. ''So," Natasha perked up, lifting her head up slightly, "sparring tomorrow after breakfast, alright?"

Anna nodded, not wanting to say anything. "Good,'' Natasha continued. "Now how about getting some sleep?''

"It's only quarter to ten," she said in slight protest, growing a slight edge to her voice.

"Anna…" Natasha warned, lowering her voice until it was gravelly,

"And you guys are gonna stay up and talk and I might hear you and get worried," she confessed. "I know I'm safe here and you guys aren't gonna argue, but I can't help but thinking so!" She threw her hands up in frustration, brushing past someone's leg; Rogers' leg. He wasn't paying attention, was he? Anna knew, with no doubt, he'd exploit the wrist trick.

Natasha seemed to notice her panic, and motioned towards the stairs at the end of the room. Anna nodded, and they walked over. They were much closer now, closer than they had been across the beanbags. Anna was compact at the end of the stairs, careful to not take up much space. Natasha seemingly understood, not moving closer, but the edge of her lips still curved in a small smile."Consider this," Natasha began, "you get yourself to bed, and if you here anything that _remotely _sounds threatening or aggravating, you're free to come downstairs."

Anna pondered for a moment, glancing up at the white plaster ceiling, then back down at the stairs before responding. "That sounds good; really good, actually. Thank you."

"I'll see you in the morning?" Anna nodded, before racing up the stairs.


End file.
